Luciano: Old salt’s luck runs out vs. cowards

At the advice of a pal, Lou kept a pair of $2 bills tucked into his wallet for good luck. Maybe Lou needs sounder advice or a better good-luck charm — or, by his own admission, a nicer neighborhood. The 70-year-old retiree was beaten outside his North Valley home of 25 years. ...

At the advice of a pal, Lou kept a pair of $2 bills tucked into his wallet for good luck.

Maybe Lou needs sounder advice or a better good-luck charm — or, by his own admission, a nicer neighborhood. The 70-year-old retiree was beaten outside his North Valley home of 25 years.

Two thieves snatched his wallet, along with cash for a niece’s birthday present. The only thing left behind: that pair of $2 bills, drifting in the alley behind his home on Phelps Street.

On Monday, he stood on the porch of his tidy place. The Navy veteran keeps the property shipshape, though he hasn’t been able to scrub away all traces of blood — his blood — that stained his sidewalks during the attack.

“I love this house,” he mumbled through a busted lip, with shiners on both eyes and a bandage across his nose. “I wish it were somewhere else.”

Lou didn’t always feel that way. He loved the neighborhood: He grew up two blocks away, on Fairholm Avenue. At age 17, he joined the Navy, serving four years before returning to Peoria in 1963. After that, he lived in multiple places, according to transfers within Caterpillar Inc., mostly locally.

In 1988, though, he found a bargain in his old neighborhood: A snappy 1925 bungalow for $20,000.

“I like to live cheap,” he said. “It’s decent. I haven’t had any trouble.”

Last year, a chum wanted to help continue Lou’s good fortune. So, he gave Lou two $2 bills, which he said would bring good luck.

“I don’t believe in bad luck or good luck,” Lou says. “But I like $2 bills.”

So, Lou tucked the greenbacks deep into his billfold, just for the heck of it. And his good fortune continued — until early Friday.

About half-past midnight, asleep at home in his boxers, he heard a smashing sound outside. Worried about an intruder, he went to his back door and pushed it open. He wandered just outside to look for signs of trouble.

“It was stupid for me to go outside,” he said glumly.

He glanced about, quickly spotting the source of the clatter: Two security lights bashed out. Then he saw two men to the side of his back door, one standing several feet away and the other approaching fast.

“I tried to get back inside,” Lou says. “But the guy bum-rushed me.”

Lou noticed the attacker was carrying a long gun, either a rifle or shotgun.

“Where’s your money?” the gunman demanded. “Give me your money!”

Lou said he had no money — technically true, considering he was wearing only boxer shorts. But inside the house was his wallet, which held about $400. He didn’t mention the money, which he’d withdrawn to buy an iPad as a birthday present for his niece the next day.

Page 2 of 3 -
The robbers didn’t like his silence, especially the one without the firearm.

“Shoot him!” he yelled to his armed accomplice.

But Lou kept his cool. Though he’d never faced an armed attacker, not even in the service, he didn’t fear getting shot by the firearm. Instead, he says, “I was afraid he’d beat me over the head with it.”

His fear was well placed. First, the assailant punched him twice in the gut, again demanding money. When Lou said nothing, he felt the butt of the gun whack hard against the back of his head.

Then, the other robber dashed over to punch and kick Lou until he crumpled to the ground. The next thing Lou knew, he was on a couch inside his home, police officers all around.

What’d happened? During the attack, a neighbor called police regarding an attempted break-in to Lou’s place. Squad cars screamed to the scene, but officers found nothing outside except for thick pools of blood on the back sidewalk, plus a trail of blood droplets leading to the back door.

A knock at the door went answered, so firefighters broke in the door. Inside, police followed a trail of blood to a living room sofa, where Lou was lying down, conscious but not very communicative, face and hair streaked with blood.

He was taken to a hospital, where no serious injuries were detected, just painful ones. Soon, he regained his memory — for the most part.

“I must’ve been in a blacked-out state for a while,” he says.

He still can’t recall everything. But for a minute or two outside the house, just after the attack, Lou apparently had fallen to the ground two or three times. He left pools of blood in his wake before straggling inside and somehow locking the door behind him. A few steps ahead of Lou, the thieves apparently had popped just inside the house and snatched his wallet from the kitchen table, then dashed away.

Police scoured the area, looking for clues, especially because robbers often toss away stolen billfolds and purses as worthless. But there was no sign of Lou’s wallet, nor his money — well, not much of it.

Officers searching the alley found two curious contents of the wallet: the pair of $2 bills. Why discard them? Well, robbers are often pretty dumb: They might’ve thought the uncommon bills to be Monopoly money or something. Who knows? Lou doesn’t.

He also doesn’t know who attacked him. With the security lights out and his eyes bloodied, he didn’t get a good look at the robbers. Police have no suspects.

Meanwhile, Lou’s brother wants Lou to move in with him, far from Peoria, to Texas. Lou doesn’t want to leave, but he’s alarmed by such an absurdly extreme attack. It’s one thing to steal money; it’s another to beat and bloody a 70-year-old veteran, and consider blowing his head off, for a few hundred bucks.